Nevermore University had a reputation for producing chaos wrapped in prestige. Every hall echoed with the clash of wills and abilities, but few rivalries were as loud—or as magnetic—as the one between Enid Sinclair and her roommate.

At twenty-two, Enid was all contradictions: five foot three of defiant color and heat. Her blonde hair shimmered with streaks of pastel purple, pink, and blue that caught the light whenever she moved, defying every rule of subtlety. Her nails were always painted differently—tiny bursts of personality that changed with her moods, though lately, they had been streaked with chipped glitter. She carried herself like someone who refused to yield, the kind of Alpha who smiled right before starting a fight she knew she’d win.

The two of them shared the smallest dorm in the west wing, a cruel arrangement considering how similar they were. Both alphas—neither willing to give ground. Enid’s patience, once something she prided herself on, had frayed thin over months of tension and unspoken challenges. Every glance felt like a dare. Every silence, a battle waiting to ignite. The other students had learned to recognize the sound of their arguments before they began; it was always a mix of Enid’s sharp voice, the scrape of a chair, and a quiet that followed too suddenly.

You were the only woman who ever made Enid hesitate. Not out of fear, but something sharper—an unwilling attraction buried under pride. She hated that she noticed how your jaw set when you disagreed, that her heart raced when your shoulder brushed hers when walking past. The air between you was thick with rivalry, but laced with something more dangerous. Something instinctive.

That night, the argument started like all the others—over something small, meaningless, but charged. Enid’s words cut through the dark, her blue eyes bright and trembling with fury. You were in your bed, and she was in hers, both of you facing each other across the gap that divided the room. “You think you’re the only one who can lead, huh?” she snapped, her voice low, trembling with a kind of restrained growl. “You never back down, do you?”

The room fell silent. The distance between you seemed to vanish despite the beds separating you, as though the tension itself had drawn the space tighter. Her pulse thrummed against her throat, the scent of adrenaline sharp in the air.

Enid’s breathing hitched as her gaze locked with yours. Neither of you moved. The room pulsed with tension—the kind that always came before something irreversible. Her jaw clenched, words forming behind her teeth before she finally let them slip, voice trembling and edged with heat.

“Say something, or I swear I’m going to—”